


A Favor For Gloriana - I Need to Be (right by your side)

by elrhiarhodan



Series: Gloriana'Verse [5]
Category: Elizabeth (Movies), White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Alternate Universe - Historical, Elizabethan, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early Elizabethan Era Historical A/U - Peter Burke works for Sir Francis Walsingham, the Queen’s Spy Master, Elizabeth Burke is the Queen’s Mistress of the Revels and Neal Caffrey is a ne’er-do-well artist and courtier, incarcerated in the Fleet Prison for debt. The golden age has yet to flower in Merry Old England, and it’s going to take a deft hand to manage all the players that will keep Good Queen Bess on the throne.</p><p>Sir Peter Burke aches for what he is about to lose when Neal Caffrey’s indenture comes to an end, but Neal has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Favor For Gloriana - I Need to Be (right by your side)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as a chapter to the first story, I have decided to repost the chapters individually. Please note the original publication date has been set for this entry.

**Autumn, 1572**

Life with Neal Caffrey was never dull. On more than one occasion (hah – sometimes at least thrice a fortnight), Peter wondered if it would be better for his sanity to toss Neal back into the Fleet. Oh, not permanently, just for a week or two. Not so much as punishment, more like a lesson: this is what happens to servants who can’t follow orders, who put themselves in danger, who make their masters worry too much.

But then Peter would contemplate a single day without Neal's presence in his life and despair. 

Besides, Caffrey's deviltry was probably the result of some task he, Peter, had set to the man and Neal had provided some essential piece of information that enabled Peter to complete his own responsibilities. Walsingham would be pleased and he’d be rewarded for his bravery and ingenuity by the Queen. He’d feel so terribly guilty, too. It wasn’t his triumph, but Neal’s, and as much as he’d demur at the honor, Walsingham would tell him that he deserved it. Caffrey was but a useful tool, and it was his own brilliance at using such a tool that earned him his rewards. 

And besides, wasn’t he a stone mason’s son who should know all about such utility?

Neal didn’t seem to mind that Peter took those honors. He’d grin and call him Sir Peter, the _Most Honorable Knight of Her Majesty’s Realm_ , and bow like the most obsequious courtier. Then kiss him and pull him off to bed, where they'd sin against God and delight in every moment of it.

Still, Peter needed to be fair about these things. When Her Majesty rewarded him with coin, he took care to set aside a portion for Neal. Not that he gave it to him. Peter didn’t fear that Neal would take the money and gamble or fritter it away; he was worried that Neal would give him back the coin and tell him to use it to reduce the time of his indenture, to pay off the money Peter had laid out. So, he saved it against that soon-approaching date and would give it to Neal with the command to make a fresh start of his life.

Ironic, though - when he told Neal he paid off his debt to Dudley and handed him the Articles of Indenture to sign, four years seemed like forever. He thought it would be four years of watching over Neal, wanting him and never taking what he wanted. Congress between them could get him – could get both of them – hanged. 

But that changed in one drunken evening of mourning and celebration. Afterwards, there didn’t seem any reason to stop, though they remained discreet. Or as discreet as two men who performed illegal acts of sodomy on each other could be. Peter was certain that his secretary, Jones, knew all about what he was doing with Neal in the dark of night. Not that the man ever said anything, or hinted anything by word or glance or deed. His house servant, Hughes, was a canny old man, though, and Peter took to leaving him a few extra groats each week, a large enough amount to buy his loyalty. 

Except that the Duke of Grafton probably paid him ten times that amount for anything that would ensure that the lowborn son of a stone mason would never seek to reconcile with his granddaughter.

It was an odd thing, what he did with Neal Caffrey – so contrary to the laws of man and God, and yet so beautiful. Even the thought of the slim, smooth body, still perfectly hairless, had the power to arouse him in broad daylight. After nearly three years of making free with it, three years of gross familiarity, it was still a wonderment. 

And it was hard to believe that tonight it was all over. He no longer owned Neal Caffrey. Their four years were done. 

Even though Peter had anticipated the loss, he would miss Neal as much as and possibly much more than he missed Elizabeth. Not just in his bed, but in his life. It was an impossible dream to expect Neal to stay. Neal might be an agent of chaos when it came to following Peter’s orders, though he had never seemed to chafe at remaining at Peter’s side. Neal didn’t talk about leaving; it was as if Neal had simply had not kept track of the passage of time.

Cold for a midsummer evening, Peter asked Hughes to lay a small fire in the grate, just enough to chase the chill away. Jones was over at the whorehouse next door, earning a few extra coins for guard duty, which he’d then promptly spend on one of Madam Diana’s girls. Hughes was down at his favorite alehouse. The kitchen staff were dismissed for the night. Peter simply didn’t want anyone to witness his unmanning when Neal walked out the door forever.

The sun was low on the horizon, disappearing behind Grosvenor’s tree-lined fields when Neal walked in, carefree, his ever-present smile gracing those perfect lips. Peter’s heart sang and wept.

“A bit chilly for July, Master, isn’t it?” Neal made his way to the sideboard and helped himself to one of Peter’s best bottles of claret. It was a habit they shared at the end of most days: some wine, some good conversation, then to bed. Neal handed him a cup and sank down into the chair next to him, soaking up the warmth.

“We’ve had a good run of it, Neal, haven’t we?” He took a sip of wine, more for form’s sake than for desire.

Neal looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Are we a company of players, Master? I guess that’s not an inaccuracy. We do a lot of pretending in our service to Her Majesty.”

“You’ve liked working for the Queen, haven’t you?” Peter wondered if he could get Walsingham to offer Neal his own position at Court. It would be a pleasure and a torment to see Neal, however infrequently.

“I like working with you, for you.”

Peter blinked. “And it has been a pleasure working with you, Neal.” He didn’t mention that it was a greater pleasure to have him in his bed, to caress his body, to enjoy his sex. No, that wasn’t necessary here.

“But what’s with this, Master? You speak as if we’re to part company.”

“Come, Neal – you mean to tell me that you don’t know what date it is?”

The man’s face was blank, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Master?”

“Your indenture ends tonight. You are a free man, Neal Caffrey.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_A free man._ In truth, Neal had never expected to hear those words, had never planned for it, at least not since the first month of his service to Master Burke, when he took a few liberties with some ink, a quill and his master's seal.

He watched as Peter got up from his chair and went to a small locked chest, opening it with a key from the ring at his waist. He removed a small strongbox, the type to hold important papers and the household funds, and this too was unlocked. Peter took out a small leather bag, hefted it in his hands and then took out another one – these he set to one side. Lastly, his master took out a sheaf of folded papers, bound with a red ribbon and a blob of wax.

Neal didn’t say anything, but he allowed himself a small, private smile.

Peter, usually so meticulous with his funds and his papers, left the box open on his desk as he returned to Neal and handed him the two bags and the papers.

“Your Articles, Neal. And your share of the money I’ve earned in the Queen’s service these past four years.” His voice was quiet, and Neal was surprised at the sadness there. Did this mean that his master didn’t want him to leave?

“I think you are mistaken, Master.” Neal did his best to keep his tone humble, a rare thing for him. 

“I am not. This date has been affixed in my head since the start. I don’t understand why it wasn’t in yours.”

 _Because I never planned on leaving you, Peter._ He couldn’t say that – not just yet. “Do you want me gone?”

Peter’s head reared back, he looked like a spooked horse. “Gods, no. We’re - we’re good together.”

Neal took heart in the desperate tone of his master’s reply. “I think so, too.” He reached out to Peter, curling his fingers around his arm. “We are good together in so many ways.”

“Yes.” But Peter wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the beribboned bundle of papers. “But you’re a free man now - you’re free to go. Make a life for yourself.”

“I can only do that when my indenture comes to an end, Master. You should know the law.”

“Neal - it has. What game are you playing?”

Oh, his master was so stubbornly blind, as dense as stone sometimes. Neal thought he could never love Peter more than he did at this moment. He took the paper from him and broke the seal, unfolding the document he had signed four years prior. In a clear, fine hand, there was a note written in the margin.

_  
I, Neal Caffrey, do hereby agree that Master Peter Burke of Grosvenor, London, has expended sums of money on my behalf in excess of those paid out to clear my debt to Lord Robert Dudley. I, therefore, willingly agree that Master Burke has the right to extend these Articles of Indenture for a period of no less than twenty years and no more than my natural life._

_By my hand, Neal George Caffrey, this Fourteenth Day of June, in the Year of Our Lord, Fifteen Hundred Sixty One_  


He handed the document back to Peter, pointing at the note. “As I said, Master. I am not free to go.”

Neal watched Peter's face so carefully as he read the codicil, and took such delight when his master gazed at him in dawning wonderment. “Why, Neal? Why do this?”

“Because I belong at your side, I have never wanted anything more than that. I willingly commit myself to you, to your cause and to …” Neal swallowed, almost too afraid to say the last words. “To your heart. I love you and I thought this was the only way to prove it.” Neal dropped to his knees, as if he were in the Queen’s presence, and kissed Peter’s hand. First the back, above his signet ring, and then on his palm. “Don’t make me leave you, ever.”

Peter pulled him to his feet. “I have dreaded this day, dreaded the very idea of you taking flight from me. But I could see no way to keep you here. And I’d forever worry about you.” He traced a finger down his cheek and Neal captured his hand.

“I’ll turn your hair gray soon enough, but I will go nowhere without you. I am Ruth to your Naomi.” Neal felt himself blushing at that.

But Peter didn’t seem to mind, and held him close. “I’d thank God, but I think He’d strike us dead for this. I love you, Neal - and no one, not God, nor Queen, nor duty will separate us.”

__

FIN


End file.
